Short Infinities
by Mr. Saxobeat
Summary: It's strange how fast feelings can develop. Sometimes they sneak up on you and tap you on the shoulder with a shy 'Hey, there.' Sometimes they hit you in the face like a brick. Prussia's not really sure where his came from, but right now, that bottle of beer is looking pretty nice. Prumano, rated M for allusions to things.
1. Chapter 1

**Can't Help Falling In Love - Ingrid Michaelson**

**Teen Idle - Marina and the Diamonds**

* * *

He hadn't meant for it to go this far. When he finally realized he'd stopped admiring Romano's long limbs or hazel eyes and started concentrating on the certain tilt to his chin or the quiet reverie that appeared across his facial features when he thought no one was looking, he knew he was screwed. Completely and utterly fucked.

The awesome Prussia did not fall in _love_, he did not fall in _like_. There were no feelings involved, just fucking. Because that's all it was. Fucking. Romano was someone he went to when he needed a quick release from stress. He went for the heavy petting that happened in the dark, the wanton moans, the breathless way the Italian would whisper sweet nothings in his ear that quite literally, meant nothing.

He could feel the world tearing at the seams when he found himself watching the way South Italy's bowed lips formed consonants and vowels and the way his hair curled slightly at the ends when it became too long, even lingering after the meeting was over to watch him clean up.

It wasn't just lust, oh no, because when Sadiq allowed his hands to wander, nothing was going to stop Prussia's fist from colliding with that sonuvabitch's fat nose. He couldn't help the satisfaction in watching the nation toppling over.

"What the fuck?" Romano looked at him from under a fan of thick lashes, expression somewhere between thankful, confused, and angry.

"I don't like it when others touch you, prinzessin." And maybe that's too much intimacy for what they have (but if it's nothing, you can't really ruin it), but Prussia really can't give much of a fuck anymore, so he walks away without looking for a reply.

Love is a complicated thing. It leaves you vulnerable. If it's right, it's oh so perfect, but if it's wrong, it's a fine line between ruin and apathy. Neither are desirable options. It's been so long since he's felt this way, only two others have had the power to make him leap between weepy and hysterical before, and it's never ended well.

Honestly, he's scared. Not terrified, no, because no matter what those fools say, war and love is not the same. Love is much, much more fragile.

It took him months to figure out that Romano wasn't just a pretty face and a hot temper, but he did eventually reach that conclusion. And once he did, he couldn't stop thinking of him.

To make things worse, his stupid, inexperienced little brother had been noticing it, too. Last night Germany had wanted to have 'a talk' with him. It was awkward, and Prussia would've much rather it had been just himself and a couple bottles of wonderful amber liquid.

"Bruder." Germany stood in the path between the kitchen and his room in the basement. He looked uncomfortable as he said this, shoulders hunched over to make himself look smaller, but only succeeding in making him look even more intimidating. Not that Prussia thought his brother was intimidating.

"Hey, West. You're in my way." He tried to nudge his way past his brother, but like it or not, Germany was bigger and more solid than him. "What do you want?"

"Can't we talk?" Now, this was interesting. Since when did West ever want to just sit down and talk to him about anything? He hadn't done anything particularly disruptive with France or Spain...Best not to think about Spain. He was too close with someone he'd just rather not concentrate on right now.

Prussia sat down cautiously on one side of the kitchen table.

"Go on."

"Is...Is there something bothering you?" Prussia flinched, head whipping up to stare at his brother.

"What do you mean?" he asked defensively, hands tensing as he gripped the edge of the table. "Of course there isn't."

"Are you sure? Prussia, I've once read that hiding your feelings can only lead to bigger problems. I borrowed a book on relationships, and Italy told me-" Suddenly, Prussia stood up, hands slamming against the tabletop. His chair tipped over and fell against the tiled ground with a loud crash.

"What? What did Romano tell you?" Germany rose, too, feeling unsure under the scrutinizing gaze of his brother.

"Ah, I meant Veneziano. North Italy." Then he narrowed his eyes. "What's this about Romano? Did he do something? Did he hurt you?" Suddenly, he was right in front of Prussia, hands on his shoulders, an intense look in his eyes. "What did he do?"

Prussia scoffed and brushed off his brother's hands.

"Like that brat could do anything to me." He turned to walk away. "It's nothing, whatever."

He spent the night alternating between cursing South Italy's name and imagining his long fingers tracing his body.

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**AN: haha i started a new story. sorry. i really should be updating NTRT but other stories are fighting for my attention. i swear i'll do it at some point. this was originally a one-shot but it got out of hand. please review :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Demons - Imagine Dragons**

The door to the Italies' home slammed open, and Romano stalked in, tie loose and suspicious lipstick marks on his face, ignoring his brother's questioning gaze. Stumbling up the stairs to his room, he stripped off his boots before throwing himself onto his bed and curling his body over the rumpled blankets. He groaned and rolled over, before shoving a pillow over his head and screaming into it.

After a few moments of silence, the door to his bedroom creaked open, and Italy stuck his head in.

"Ve, _fratello_, are you okay?"

"Go away, Veneziano."

"What's wrong?"

"None of your fucking business."

Italy walked over to the bedand leaned down so he was face to face with his brother.

"You smell like alcohol, ve," he observed.

Romano made a pathetic swipe at his brother's face before turning and facing the other direction. Italy frowned. He flopped onto the bed, on top of Romano and didn't budge, despite the struggling underneath.

"Get off, fatass!" Romano pushed at his brother in vain, the haze of alcohol impairing his aim. Italy giggled and hugged him.

"Not until you tell me what happened!" He rubbed his cheek against Romano's. "Don't be sad, Roma."

Romano quieted. Was he sad? Not really. He wasn't sure how he felt, but ever since that morning… He narrowed his eyes. Prussia was such an ass. This was all his fault. He wouldn't be feeling so shitty for no reason at all if Prussia hadn't acted like a complete weirdo after the meeting.

They'd had a deal. Everything was supposed to be no strings attached, and now Prussia'd complicated everything.

It was already awkward enough when he thought of Prussia while in bed with someone else, but for it to happen in public? Things were going farther than he would like. Maybe it was time to break things off.

Romano wasn't stupid. He knew his feelings for Prussia had started to change. It wasn't the issue of whether South Italy liked men or if he found women attractive. It was the simple fact that he liked Prussia. And that sucked.

In public, Prussia was crude and crass, always wearing a mocking smile. He loved beer, and he loved himself even more. But at night when they were together, Romano found himself appreciating the soft, hesitant look in his eyes before lips crashed together and everything was lost in the whisper of sheets and senseless stuttering in Italian and German.

And it was in these times that Romano allowed himself to tell Prussia exactly how he felt, albeit in a language the other couldn't understand.

He rubbed a hand over his face. The wine was getting to his brain.

"Romano?" Italy peered at him.

"What do you want."

Before Italy could answer, the phone started to ring. He gave Romano a look that clearly said the conversation was over, before getting off of him and bouncing to the cordless phone on the desk by the bed.

"_Ciao_! Who is this?" Italy listened for a few seconds and then said, "Ve, hey, Germany!"

Romano groaned and shut his eyes.

He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until his dream of ash blonde hair, wine-red irises, and thin, pale pink lips was interrupted by Veneziano shaking him awake.

"Germany says he wants to ask you about something."

"Tell him he can shove his dumbass question up his-"

"Romano! Don't be so mean!" Italy pouted.

But Romano was really not in the mood to deal with the German muscle man, especially considering he was related to another bastard he didn't want to think about.

"No! Tell him to fuck off and leave me alone!" he snarled. "I don't _ever _want to talk to him or his bastard brother again!"

And the words were out of his mouth before he could take them back, so he just sat there glaring at his brother, daring him to comment.

"But.._fratello_, he wants to talk about Prussia."


End file.
